This post was originally written in 2015 — way back before we were a family of five! But as a nod to the #hopewriterslife prompt “draft” for today, I thought I’d actually take an old draft, finish it as best I could, and post it. Check out my Instagram feed for more details! Enjoy!

As Mr. Kuda and I sat down to dinner the other night, I got a glimpse of this mid-thirties bombshell with perfectly placed hair, a stylishly cuffed blazer, and pearls as the perfect accessory. She lit up the room and engaged enthusiastically with all of the dinner guests: a perfect mix of self-deprecation, a sense of humor, and perfectly white teeth.

I immediately despised her.

When it turned out that she would be sitting next to me for the next three hours that night, I cringed. One fifteen second interaction had told me that we would not be friends, we had nothing in common, and she would likely judge me for what I didn't have, whether it was the big house, the cute clothes, or the perfect family.

And I was right.

And for some reason, I cannot get this girl off my mind. On the exterior, she was perfectly lovely, but I did get the sense of judgment. Long after the night was over and she returned to her estate, I continued to find myself reeling over this woman's attitude: her extravagant negligence to those around her, her talking over me when she asked me a question, her blatant discussions of how much money they had and what they spent it on. Her complete obliviousness to the world around her threw me so off-course, my head has been spinning for the past three days.

And then? God.

In Romans 12, our dear friend Paul talks about Mutual Love. For some reason, my insecurities immediately gave attributes to this woman in which I had no right to give. Whether or not her motives, thoughts, or words were in love toward me, I am not called to love that way in return. Here’s what Paul says:

Bless those who persecute you, bless and do not curse them (v14), Do not repay anyone for evil; be concerned for what is noble in the sight of all. If possible, on your part, live at peace with all (v17-18).

He doesn't tell us to be a doormat, but God does require a love from us to all others, regardless of their iniquities. Not only does He require this special love of us, but He gives our hearts the ability to do so. Godly hospitality means that we pattern generosity after God's: we give to those who couldn't possibly give in return. Sometimes this means financially or with material items, but this woman? She needed grace. I needed to give her grace, even if she couldn't possibly give that in return. Further, the next time I come across someone I want to immediately judge, I need to ask myself two questions:

What is the reason behind my reaction? Insecurity? Pride? Fear?
How would Jesus respond in this situation? More, how can I shift my focus from how this person affects me, versus how God sees him/her?

Thinking back my heart hurts in light of my gut reaction, but I do know this... It starts here: Love. Love when it doesn't make sense. Love when it hurts your heart. Love when you want to turn to anger or bitterness. Love when you don't think the other person deserves it. That last one stings. Because in my own selfish and insecure mind, I made a quick decision that another human being did not deserve my love. But friends, there’s only one perfect Judge, and He is truthful and merciful, full of compassion. While I know I won’t always respond perfectly, I do know I can rest in His forgiveness as I bow down before His throne, with another dawning of understanding in the may ways I fail.

And He will always respond in truth, in love, and compassion.

Have you ever made a snap judgment on someone? How did it affect you in the long run? Was your mind ever changed?

This is where I put the teeth-bared, wide-eyed emoji that impossibly, yet simply says, "Yes. An adult temper tantrum. Whoops."

This is also the emoji used in certain cases such as:

I just overreacted to my children being children
I accidentally put salt instead of sugar in my coffee
I just found a mysterious pile of poop on the kitchen floor (full disclosure: we're in the midst of potty-training the two year old. Poop is on the brain)
I totally called her by the wrong name at the grocery store

You get the point. And I know you know exactly the sentiment I'm expressing here.

After hearing some not so great news last night, it had all come to a head. I fell the other day, so I'm recovering from an unexpected back and elbow injury. My mom broke her wrist and now has to have surgery next week. We have family coming in town this weekend, and I can't get ahead of the laundry/dusting/vacuuming/POOP situation. I've promised a girl's day with my sweetest girl, and all I want is to curl up with a book or a computer or my Bible and NOT. MOVE. So I may have had a temper tantrum last night. I cried and expressed my frustration while the husband lovingly patted my back and let me do just that. Sitting on my back porch this morning, as the gray dawn crept over our tree-filled yard, I was reminded of the newness each day brings. In the darkness of night amidst the weariness of a long, emotion-filled day, these new mercies we're given on a daily and even moment-to-moment basis are hard to grasp. But as the light slowly comes but then shines all at once, we're given a new perspective, a chance to begin again.

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23 NIV

Which brings me to my point: have a tantrum. Lean on a trusted husband or friend or cousin. Whomever it is, however you must lean, whether in person or on face time. Do it. Express your fears, and your frustrations. But the next morning recognize the day for what it is: a chance to re-evaluate, make a plan, and push forward. Say 'yes,' to the people in front of you, regardless of their size, and do the next right thing reflecting obedience to God in that moment. His love for us never ends. He is merciful at all times, forgives us as we repent of our tantrum-y ways. The darkness of night feels all-consuming, but the newness of morning refreshes us, replenishing our soul, and gives us hope in the Lord to carry out our day.